Scream
by minachandler
Summary: Set during 3x21. Laurel always feels some measure of anger when she uses the Canary Cry, but it's amplified tenfold when she's using it to save someone she cares about. Black Assassin (mostly) friendship.


The Canary Cry takes a little getting used to for Laurel. When Cisco first makes it for her, it's obvious that it's distinctly different from Sara's sonic device – and not just in how it looks, or how it feels around her neck, or even the fact that there's a built-in voice filter.

No, it's the fact that, to use it, she has to _scream_.

Laurel has to open her mouth and scream at the top of her lungs. It takes a bit of getting used to, sure, but there's no denying how good it feels, like she's letting out all the anger and pent-up emotion that is still deep inside her. Only this way she's beating up criminals – and helping a lot of people in the process.

She knows Nyssa is impressed by it, even if she tries not to show it. Nyssa insists that Laurel train without it at times, because like with all weapons they are dispensable and not always readily available.

"Besides," Nyssa adds one day as an unconscious would-be rapist lies at Laurel's feet, her eyes on the Canary Cry choker, "as pretty as it looks around your neck, your advantage over your opponent is only temporary. You cannot rely on a fancy gadget to do the work for you."

"Aw, you think it looks pretty?" Laurel says, a laugh in her voice as she lands one final kick in the man's back for good measure. "You're getting better at compliments, got to say."

"You should get better at receiving them," Nyssa retorts, but she smiles back nevertheless.

"Gotcha." Laurel's still laughing, though.

Weeks later, however, the last thing Laurel is doing is laughing. No, she's screaming. And as angry as she's been before with every criminal she's taken down and put away, with Merlyn, herself, even, there's something different about the Canary Cry as it permeates the air and shatters glass and does serious damage to Oliver Queen's eardrums.

Because this time he's threatening Nyssa al Ghul, Laurel's friend, the love of her sister's life and a woman she's grown to care about deeply – and she will do what needs to be done to stop him.

"We can't let you hurt her, man!" Diggle shouts from beside Laurel, and when Oliver narrows his eyes, looking first at Diggle and then at Laurel, she half-expects him to try throwing Nyssa off that rooftop anyway. But then he jumps off the rooftop, leaving Nyssa where she is, and a warm wave of relief floods Laurel's chest and makes her breathe easier. She's at Nyssa's side in an instant, tugging her forward so she is no longer on the brink. Dig's peering over the edge of the rooftop, trying to figure out where Oliver's gone, but Laurel doesn't care anymore – all that matters is that Nyssa is okay.

"Thank God," Laurel says softly, and before she can stop herself she is hugging Nyssa tightly to her. Nyssa doesn't quite hug her back – she stiffens at first, but after a moment she softens and at least doesn't resist Laurel's embrace, even if her arms are hanging limply at her sides. It's when Laurel moves away, though, that she notices the cut on Nyssa's neck. "Dig, do you have a handkerchief or something?" she asks. At first, he doesn't answer. He's still standing pretty close to the edge, looking over into the depths below. Deep in thought. "Dig!"

"Yeah, sorry," he says, and he reaches into his pocket for a blue handkerchief, but it's then that Nyssa extricates herself from Laurel's grasp and gets up.

"I am fine," she insists. "Oliver will be back. I need to go."

"Go where?" Laurel demands. "Nyssa, we need to keep you safe."

"You cannot protect me," Nyssa says instantly. Laurel looks up, meets Dig's eyes. He nods, handing over the handkerchief. Back straight, balling his hands into fists, he walks away from the pair of them.

"Nyssa," Laurel pleads, but Nyssa just turns away from her, and when Laurel places her hand on Nyssa's shoulder to turn her around, she actually flinches. Laurel's hand falls to her side in an instant.

"How did you find me?" Nyssa says, still not meeting Laurel's eyes.

"I put a tracking device on you," Laurel says. Nyssa closes her eyes, then, and she winces. "What's wrong?"

"I have forgotten how much your fancy gadget hurts my ears," Nyssa mutters, more to herself than to Laurel, but it does elicit something close to a smile on Laurel's face nevertheless. Enough for Laurel to take Nyssa's hand into her own and push the handkerchief into her closed palm.

"At least stem the bleeding on your neck," Laurel murmurs, aware of the blood wetting her own knuckles. Thankfully, Nyssa takes the handkerchief and presses it on the cut that is dangerously close to her throat. Laurel feels chills up her spine watching her do so. "I can't believe he was going to kill you," she says faintly.

"I must go, Laurel," Nyssa says suddenly. "I must take precautions. Oliver will not rest until he can take me back to Nanda Parbat. Alive or dead."

"I won't let him," Laurel says determinedly, but Nyssa has already let the handkerchief drop to the floor. Before Laurel can say anything further, Nyssa fires an arrow at a building just east of her, and without another word, Nyssa leaves the Black Canary alone on the rooftop, watching her go. Crestfallen.


End file.
